


In The Small Stuff

by goatsongs



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Men, Awkward Romance, Happens during the 18 month time jump, Let them kiss Jalexander, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Wilde is tired and sad, Zolf cuts Wilde's hair, Zolf has 0 charisma, gay angst, they are tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24129856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goatsongs/pseuds/goatsongs
Summary: Oscar Wilde wants to cut his hair.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	In The Small Stuff

**Cut Your Bangs - Girlpool**

  
  
  


When Zolf reflected on it, it was hard for him to reconcile the Oscar Wilde he’d left in Paris with the Oscar Wilde he’d grown to know over the first few months of working together. The old Wilde was quick to joke, quick to embarrass and condescend. He would display his magic as if it were a tell-tale sign of his importance, intimidating with ridicule and quips whenever he felt like it with a simple snap of his fingers. Several masks of smooth, pale skin over the face of a man who could not bring himself to genuine kindness if it killed him.

But then again, pain and grief went a long way. The heart was a very adaptive muscle, Zolf had certainly learned that the hard way. Now he was stood in the silence of one of the first clear nights in months since they’d occupied the inn in the small village. It was a rarity so precious he was not surprised to find that Oscar had had the same idea as himself. As he stepped out into the night, trying not to make any noise that could be avoided, he noticed Oscar standing to the far edge of one of the promontories that looked over the mountains before the stretch of ocean. The fog had cleared enough to catch a glimpse of black sea far in front of him.  
He was looking up. Zolf stopped for a moment, let himself watch as the other man stood, his breath coming quiet. He didn’t seem to notice Zolf, but then again they had often established a shared dynamic of not acknowledging each other’s presence unless necessary. It was a comfort that came only when sharing limited spaces, and very limited trust. Zolf wondered when he’d started to think of him as Oscar.

He was standing tall, his back straight, his eyes cast up, and his long hair bathed in the blues and whites of moonshine. It was not tied back, which surprised Zolf for a moment. He’d grown used to seeing Oscar choosing styles that were practical, so different from what he’d seen him be like in Paris.

Zolf, keeping a fair amount of distance, followed Oscar’s gaze up to the sky, bright with millions of stars. It briefly reminded him of his time spent at sea when he was younger. He wondered what Oscar was thinking.

As if summoned, Oscar seemed to finally notice Zolf, tilting his head to the side so that Zolf could see the side of his face, covered in long strands of chestnut hair, all colour washed out by the moonlight.

“Zolf.” His voice was tired.

“Wilde.” Said Zolf in lieu of something better to say.

Wilde let out a heavy sigh and turned toward Zolf, taking a few steps to close the distance between them until he was close enough that Zolf could see the familiar dark circles around his eyes, and could see the other man’s chest rise lightly as he breathed.

“I’m going to cut my hair.” Said Oscar, and Zolf looked at him curiously, finding an odd brightness in his blue eyes, a softness he could not bring himself to interpret.

In truth this had not been their first moment of curious tenderness, where all pretence and all hints of a mask would drop from Oscar’s face and Zolf would be left to contemplate all of the grief held into such a slender body, his fairly fresh scar stark against his skin. Zolf always found himself surprised at the odd timing Oscar seemed to have to reveal himself to him in those vulnerable ways.  
It hadn’t even been the first time Oscar had told him he was going to cut his hair, and had never followed through with the statement. Remembering this, Zolf smiled.

“No you won’t,” As he had grown to know Oscar in his smallest quirks and habits, he had learned that Oscar was always completely honest with him, except in the small things, the things he often lied to himself about too. How much it hurt when he’d get injured. Whether he was hungry or not. How much sleep he’d gotten.

In response Oscar gave him nothing but the mere shadow of a sad smile and Zolf found himself awkwardly fumbling over the sudden desire to see Oscar laugh freely. The realisation that he’d never heard Oscar’s laughter hit his chest with a strange jolt he could not bring himself to concentrate on. He looked at Oscar, and noticed his eyes already drifting into nothingness, fatigue painting shadows on his white skin.

“Get to bed, Wilde.”

Oscar nodded, and made his way back to the door of the inn. Zolf didn’t turn to accompany him, or watch him go, and was determined not to read into the slight pause in movement when Oscar reached the door. He stubbornly looked up at the sky, searching for the familiar brightness of the North Star.

**_***_ **  
  
  
  


The next afternoon found Oscar in his office, hunched over paperwork, and Zolf on the door with a cup of tea. The storm outside had picked up again, the sky covered in grey, angry clouds.

“I’ll cut your hair.” Said Zolf. Oscar lifted his head, seemingly startled by Zolf being so direct and earnest. Zolf himself breathed in sharply at the idea. It had tumbled out of his mouth unexpectedly. Oscar touched his hair, now tied back in a low ponytail, and stared blankly.

“Alright.” He said softly, after a long pause.

Zolf, distracted by Oscar’s dazed expression, shook himself into moving, setting down the cup of tea on the desk before going in search of scissors. His heart scuttled briefly into his throat before responding to his carefully drawn out breaths. When he returned to the office, Oscar had moved his chair more toward the centre of the room to allow Zolf some space. He sat in the chair and looked at Zolf with a look he could only label as expectant.

“Right,” Zolf mumbled gruffly.

As Zolf started brushing through the long locks of hair with his hands he found himself suddenly flooded by memories. The strands of hair held in his palms turned black for a moment as he remembered his late youth spent on the sea, the companionship and comfort of fighting alongside people who had been his captors and his saviours. People he had learned to love and understand better than anyone else he’d ever shared a ship with. He would cut his companions’ hair and they would do the same for him, and they would laugh, and their hair would wip around them on the docks when storms would pick up at sea. Again he thought about how Oscar’s long hair whipped around him when he sang his spells in battle, power surging around him like electricity, something Zolf had not seen during his time with the Rangers, working for Oscar rather than with him. It was a worthy sight.

These thoughts rushed through his mind as he combed his fingers through Oscar’s hair, which had grown well over his shoulders. Though unsure of the length he should go for, he knew better than to ask Oscar. If he wanted something he would have told him.  
Zolf got lost in the steady metallic sounds of the scissors as he cut the wavy hair up to the point where Oscar’s jaw met the end of his ears. Once done he moved around the chair to face Oscar, checking whether the length was level. Oscar seemed to search his eyes, and Zolf felt uncomfortable beneath that intensity.

“How do I look?” he asked softly, tucking his short hair behind his ear timidly while still holding eye contact. Zolf hastily broke out of it and focused his gaze on a random point on Oscar’s forehead.

“It looks, uh, you - you look great.”

A moment passed, the air thick and tense as their breaths mingled in the humid air.

“Thank you, Zolf.” Oscar reached out his hand to take Zolf’s, and Zolf nervously watched as a lock of hair fell from his shoulder onto his lap. When he forced his eyes back up to look at Oscar he found the most unguarded smile he’d seen on him since the encounter that had given him the scar. His hand felt heavy in Oscar’s.

Zolf’s thoughts scrambled through months of devouring romance novels for something sublime to say in a moment that seemed almost perfect.

When nothing came, he smiled.

“I called your bluff.”

Oscar let out a breathless laugh.

“You did.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by Cut Your Bangs by Girlpool (I strongly recommend you give it a listen).
> 
> This is the first fic I post on here in years! I love these tired husbands. Let them kiss, mr jalexander. blease.  
> Leave a comment if you like it.  
> Find me [here](https://goatboysleeping.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and give me prompts if you would like :) 
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful friend and beta [@oscarlovesthesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oscarlovesthesea/pseuds/oscarlovesthesea) for getting me hooked on this podcast madness and being supportive about my writing. I love you more than you know.


End file.
